


Her Diamonds

by MagicInMe123



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Established Relationship, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Murder Girlfriends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 04:57:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17822324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicInMe123/pseuds/MagicInMe123
Summary: It’s an intricate balance, trying to date a perfectionist. Even more complicated when you factor in that they work together; double that complication when you account for how closed off Laurel is. And yet, here they are.Or, Laurel keeps screwing up at work and Michaela needs to find out why.





	Her Diamonds

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like there are hardly any established relationship stories about Michaela and Laurel and when they do exist, it’s mostly Laurel saving Michaela so I’m throwing my hat in the ring and flipping the script. 
> 
> I didn't have tons of time to proof read so sorry for any mistakes!

_“They don’t know,”_ Laurel mentally chanted to herself on repeat.

She sat in the basement, the very basement where Rebecca Sutter had been brutally murdered and rocked herself back and forth slowly and with unbelievable gentleness. Her mother had never properly soothed her as a child, always for too high on pills for that and the idea that her father noticed her, never mind cared enough to look out for her was laughable, so self-soothing was one of her many talents. Tears streaked down her face yet she did not make a single sound. Her father never did take kindly to criers, or any signs of weakness for that matter. It occurred to the young law student that all her friends/coworkers and her girlfriend were right upstairs and yet she was paralyzed by the very idea of reaching out to any of them. A few months ago the idea of asking for help was beyond the realm of possibility but now she had someone real in her life.

Michaela Pratt.

 Her _girlfriend._

 It still seemed unreal to the young Castillo that she was able to refer to the other woman that way. Her crush had manifested pretty early on during their time as 1Ls despite the taller girl’s standoffish behavior and incessant need to show off. Michaela had worked her way under her skin despite both of those things and had yet to leave. The whole calling-Laurel-a-sociopath-for-stealing-her-engagment-ring-to-prevent-her-from-going-to-the-police thing was a bit of a hurdle but a few nights of Laurel graciously picking up the tab on their nights out in an effort to apologize had slowly but surely convinced Michaela to speak to her again and from there the Latina won the black girl over with small, thoughtful gestures. Offering her copies of outlines without being asked, bringing her coffees on early morning Keating, sticking up for the Southern native any time the boys started to gang up on Michaela. Due to her own less than wonderful childhood, Michaela had learned to depend on no one but herself; somehow without ever saying anything about her past to Laurel, the wallflower had managed to learn that Michaela valued consistency and loyalty above all else and Laurel was more than willing to provide those two things for her.

The blue eyed girl finds Annalise studying her more often now; one of the many advantages to being a wallflower includes the fact that unless she calls attention to herself, if she is the focus of the group then it’s under her own direction. It works well for her; she’s silent unless and until she finds the right answer and solves the puzzle. There’s something about the approval she finds in Annalise’s eyes or the soft smile she gets from the older woman that just makes her feel _good._ It’s her second greatest affliction. Her first of course, is another chocolate skinned (almost) lawyer, Michaela Pratt.

As she sat in the basement, doing everything in her power to stifle the sobs building in the back of her throat, she thought about Frank. She thought about how one day she loved him and the next she wanted to throw up every time she saw him. She thought about how fragile love could be. The very idea, the very thought that one day she could be left by Michaela the way she had been left by Frank made her jealous of Rebecca’s, Lyla’s, even Sam’s fates.

The screams from upstairs pulled her back to reality as she could hear one set of footsteps on the staircase. Just seconds later, three knocks on the basement door that Laurel luckily had had the foresight to lock. The young future lawyer ignored the knocks and allowed her mind to drift back to how this had all started just a few short weeks ago.

* * *

 “How could you forget that?” Annalise shouted from behind her desk, still dressed in heels and her full courtroom attire.

She had instructed the Latina to close the door to her office behind her – and she had – but Laurel knew that it would do nothing to muffle the sound of the very loud, very public ass chewing she was currently receiving. It brought her back to their second week working with Professor Keating as the newly appointed Keating Five when they had first accused Sam of having an inappropriate relationship with the late Lyla Standgard. Their shouting had been so clearly understood that it was as if the two professors were in the living room with the students. Bonnie stomped into the room and had swiftly instructed them to get back to work but it was impossible to not eavesdrop. She had a feeling she would soon know _exactly_ how Sam had felt in that moment. Just the thought of Michaela hearing their professor tear her a new one brought a rush of shame and an embarrassed blush to her cheeks.

Laurel bit the inside of her cheek harshly, so harshly that she was concerned about drawing blood, in an effort to stifle any response or answer she felt bubbling on her lips. In all her years alive there was one lesson she knew for sure, to never _ever_ react to the threat.  

“I want answers Miss Castillo, and I want them now,” The professor seethed. She stood behind her desk at full height, full intimidation and stared down her student.

Laurel kept her piercing eyes down and fixated on a particularly interesting section of carpet in the office. She hunched her shoulders and folded her arms, taking up as little space in the sizable office as possible. She eyed the desk in between her and Annalise, grateful for the distance it put between them. This was her go to survival technique with her father. No matter what he said, how loudly he screamed at her, or what questions he asked, the young Latina knew that they were rhetorical and her best course of action was to keep her mouth shut.

Annalise seemed no less furious when Laurel finally allowed her eyes to drift up, but she saw something soft in the older woman’s eyes.

“Get out. Go home. You spend the weekend getting some actual sleep and maybe you’ll be of some use to me on Monday,” Annalise sentenced her; her tone brooked no room for argument.

With a grateful nod, the Latina fled the office without as much as another glance towards her boss. Unsurprisingly, she entered the living room to find the rest of the Keating Five staring her down; Asher looked away as soon as she appeared in favor of looking at his feet, as if he could feel her embarrassment, Connor stared with big, impressed looking eyes, Wes’s filled with pity, and finally her girlfriend stared at her with a dangerous rage.

Laurel looked around for Bonnie and Frank but they were nowhere to be seen. She quickly crossed the room, picked up her papers and shakily shoved them into her bag. After she made sure she had all of her belongings, she chanced a glance at her girlfriend. Laurel had driven them both this morning and she wasn’t sure what exactly the protocol was now. Would the other girl want to catch a ride with Connor? And if not, was she meant to just drop Michaela off at her own apartment or continue with their pre-determined plans to spend the weekend at Laurel’s place.

Just from observing her uncertain behaviors and confused glances, Michaela could read her mind. Despite the fact that she was trying to be polite, Laurel’s apprehension only served to irritate her girlfriend. With an overly dramatic eye roll, the chocolate skinned girl picked up her own already packed bag and all but dragged Laurel out the door with her. There was a certain roughness to Michaela’s grip but as soon as the couple left the living room and were safely outside of the view of the others, the pulling grip switched quickly into Michaela working her hand into Laurel’s and lacing their fingers together. The blue eyed girl was shocked by the intimate gesture when it was clear that her girlfriend was pissed at her for what had happened earlier but she voiced no complaints and instead soaked up the comfort that the gesture was meant to offer her.

* * *

 It took every bit of Laurel’s concentration to not crash her car on their way home. Michaela has yet to say a single word to her aside from the occasional huff; not even the radio played to distract either woman from the deafening silence. 

“We would’ve won!” Michaela rounded on her. “We would have won this case and done a good thing for those people and you blew it all up Laurel!”

Laurel allowed her girlfriend to continue to rant at her and found a section of a painting on the wall to focus all of her energy on. If she looked up she was afraid that her girlfriend would see the tears threatening to pool in her eyes and would be reminded of just how unacceptable it was to cry.

“How could you be so careless?” she continued. “You know better than that.” Her hands were poised dangerously on her hips and her dark eyes were fixed on the tea she was currently brewing.

Still the Latina offered no response.

“And after last week, you really needed to be on your A-game,” the lecture continued. Michaela was still seeing red and too angry to even look over at the other woman. “You can’t keep doing sloppy work Laurel. It’s making _both_ of us look bad.”

If Laurel had not had so much practice with keep her face a carefully constructed mask due to endless tirades from her father, she would have visibly winced at that. She knew that she was screwing up but for her own girlfriend to tell her that she was ruining both of their reputations stung her deeply.

Although it may not have been the best course of action for their relationship, Laurel went into survival mode and allowed her mind to blank completely. She could hear Michaela speaking but did not allow herself to focus on the actual words or their meaning.

Somewhere along her rant, Michaela had forced herself to take a deep breath and allow her chocolate eyes to settle on Laurel – who had yet to say a word in almost the fifteen minutes they had been alone in Laurel’s apartment. She was not surprised to see the Latina looking closed off – that was nothing new during one of their arguments, but there was something about the way she seemed to fold in on herself that tugged at Michaela’s heartstrings. They bickered like any two people who were dating, working together, full time students _and_ had full time jobs but they rarely full-on fought like this. Michaela’s voice was almost scratchy from all the yelling she had done since they had arrived after a car ride filled with the silent treatment.

God it was so unfair, Michaela thought to herself, that the other girl could look so unbelievably beautiful like this, with a sad frown and hunched in posture. Seeing her girlfriend looking so uncharacteristically small made guilt creep into Michaela’s heart and settle in her ribcage. For the first time since everything had blown up just a few hours ago, Michaela’s anger lessened and was replaced by concern for her girlfriend. Later, she would feel deeply ashamed that she was so blinded by anger that it took her such a long time to consider the reason why it had all happened.

“Laurel?” Michaela called her girlfriend’s name softly. She had long since stopped pacing around the kitchen like a caged lion and slowly made her way over to the blue eyed girl who was standing almost robotically still, leaning against a wall in the living room.

Laurel had a gorgeous, open floor plan apartment so the two rooms were parallel; allowing them to have this argument in two rooms yet still be in full view of each other. Michaela’s apartment was, of course, nice in its own right but it could not compete with the proximity to campus and the space that Laurel’s had which was why the couple opted to spend most of their very limited free time together at the Latina’s apartment.

Despite hearing an echo of her name, Laurel did not look up. She didn’t move a muscle.

Michaela waited for any sign of acknowledgement from her girlfriend and found no evidence that she had even heard her.

“Laurel, what’s wrong?” she asked again, allowing the worry that was now filling her up to slip into her voice. When she was finally toe to toe with her slightly shorter girlfriend she steadily reached out and clasped a pale hand in one her own.

Laurel’s head snapped up the second she felt contact. She instinctively tried to pull back from the offending hand but Michaela’s grip tightened.

“Laurel…you’re shaking,” Michaela murmured. She made it a point to be the picture of calm but internally, she was nearing panic. Her characteristically strong, stoic girlfriend had been literally trembling for God knew how long because she had been too wrapped up in her own self-absorbed anger to even realize something was wrong.

“Baby…” unsure of what else to do, Michaela used her other arm to gently wind around the smaller girl’s waist and draw their bodies closer together. Truthfully, there really had not been an abundance of times during their relationship where Laurel had relied on the darker girl for comfort and Michaela was slightly ashamed to admit she wasn’t sure exactly how to make Laurel feel better. It occurred to Michaela that Laurel had yet to look up and show her those blue eyes she loved so much. Laurel was a watcher; eye contact was practically her love language so to close off that method of communication between them set off a new round of alarm bells in her mind.

Pet names were special to Laurel because Michaela did not use them often and she never used them around other people; they were an intimate gesture for the two of them to share when they were alone. Typically, when Michaela called her that it melted her, turned her normally taught insides to butter but tonight not even the nickname could break through the frost that coated her entire body.

“Laurel you’re starting to scare me,” Michaela cautioned, working her hardest to keep the majority of her panic at bay. “I need you to say something.”

Laurel, ever the caretaker, finally looked up and met concerned chocolate eyes that were just inches from her face. Hearing the panic creep into her lover’s tone, she felt an intense urge to comfort the other woman and erase the additional unpleasant feelings that Laurel felt responsible for.  

“I’m fine,” Laurel cleared her throat, breaking the eye contact as quickly as she had initiated it. “I just got lost in a thought.”

“No,” Michaela countered slowly, eyes never leaving Laurel’s face. “You were completely unresponsive. Where did you go just now?” She absently slipped just a few fingers under Laurel’s shirt and rubbed the small sliver of skin where her shirt had ridden up yet before her jeans began. Michaela gently ghosted what she hoped were comforting circles on the other girl’s waist. 

Sensing that Michaela was unwilling to back down, Laurel made a move to pull out of her girlfriend’s embrace but once again found the arms gripping her tighter.

“Can you not do that please,” Laurel requested, her voice smaller than Michaela had ever heard it before.

It took her a full 10 seconds to process what the Latina was asking her but the second her brain connected the dots she dropped her arms immediately, eyes wide with shock. She watched a shiver run the length of her blue eyed girlfriend’s spine as she crossed her arms across her chest in a self-soothing gesture.

“God, sorry,” Michaela offered, too shocked to be articulate.

“It’s okay,” Laurel rushed to get out. “It’s just kind of hot in here is all. I’ll be fine in a minute.”

Well aware that her apartment had the air conditioning cranked to an acceptable level and that her excuse would quickly be dismissed, Laurel saw Michaela open her mouth to refute her poorly thought out lie and cut her off.

“Actually, I’m gonna go change. I’ve been in these clothes for like 19 hours,” she offered. “You’re welcome to get comfortable as well.”

Michaela had no choice but to allow the other woman to slink off in the direction of their typically shared bedroom.

‘What is happening?’ she whispered to herself.

Michaela had never seen Laurel shiver like that – like she wanted nothing more than to crawl out of her own skin. She had never seen her lover so…despondent. Michaela felt the seductive pull of panic threatening to overtake her once again but instead steeled herself against it, allowing determination to become her most prominent emotion.

She needed to get to the bottom of this and she needed to do it _now._

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! So I’ve been rewatching How to Get Away with Murder at the same time as I’m watching season five every Thursday and it’s actually harder than I thought it would be to keep the storylines straight. I never realized how many characters guest star for a season and then are never heard from again. 
> 
> ANYWAYS, I have a special place in my heart for the Michaela/Laurel ship. There are some honestly amazing stories already on here for this ship and I was inspired to finally write/publish a few of my own. I was kind of angling to do what the show does at the start of every season, where they show the audience the major event (Laurel in the basement) and then backtrack to tell the story. In the majority of these wonderful stories, Michaela is a mess and Laurel is an amazing friend turned girlfriend so I thought it would be fun to switch things up, have Laurel losing it and Michaela swoop in and watch out for her. 
> 
> I do thoroughly enjoy feedback/comments so if you’re feeling inspired or especially kind, feel more than free to drop a comment on this story. 
> 
> Any guesses as to whyyyy Laurel isn’t doing so well at work?


End file.
